A.N.: In the Sorkin years, several episodes used flashbacks to illustrate the state of mind of a particular character in the present day, most famously perhaps with "Two Cathedrals". I'm borrowing that template for this story, getting into Donna's head between Season 7's "Requiem" and "Transition" as she re-examines a similarly uncertain transition between the first Bartlet campaign and the Bartlet White House.

For those of you who started following this fic as "Election '98", it is the same story with a different wrapper. Apologies for any confusion, but this structure works better for the story I'm attempting to tell.

Private residence of the White House

November, 2006

Post-ep Requiem

"Thank you for inviting me," Donna said as she leaned in to kiss the president's cheek to say goodnight. It had been a wonderful evening after a wearying and confusing day. Some of the old warmth – the comforting sense of these remarkable people as family – came flooding back in the upstairs room. Sam was missing, Toby, and of course, Leo, but the love remained. She was a long way from the college drop-out who drove to New Hampshire with little more than hope and burning desire for a change.

C.J. joined her on the staircase as they walked back to the West Wing. "I have to stop by my office for two minutes," C.J. said. "Do you have everything you need for tonight?"

"I left my bag at Margaret's desk," Donna replied.

"I'll let the car know we're ready," C.J. said, disappearing into the inner office.

Donna gathered her coat, adjusted her scarf, and was searching for her gloves when another voice called to her from the doorway.

"Hey," Josh said softly.

"Hey," Donna replied, holding his gaze. "I'm waiting for C.J. We're about to head out."

"I know. I just wanted to say goodnight."

Josh crossed the room and closed the difference between them. Was he going to kiss her here in Margaret's office?

"You're wrong about this being awkward and confusing," Josh said. He stood as close as possible without actually touching her. "I knew exactly what I wanted tonight."

Donna couldn't help but smile. That kind of declaration was sexy as hell. "But you didn't tell me," Donna replied. "Or anyone else," she quickly added, thinking of Amy's set-up offer earlier in the evening.

"I didn't know I had to," he said. "You always know."

Donna leaned in and kissed him gently on the lips. "Goodnight, Josh. Call me in the morning."

Donna picked up her bag and walked to the hallway, leaving Josh leaning against the edge of Margaret's desk as C.J. re-entered the room.

"Measuring the drapes is one thing, Josh. Lurking is another," C.J. said.

"What," Josh responded, still a little stunned. "I wasn't… It doesn't matter. I'm leaving now. Donna's waiting for you in the lobby."

C.J. caught up with Donna moments later. "You want to tell me what's going on with you and Josh?"

Thirty minutes later C.J. and Donna were across town in C.J.'s apartment.

"Is this your niece?" Donna asked, examining a framed photograph in the living room.

"Hogan?" C.J. replied. "Yeah, that one's a year or two old, I think." She handed Donna a wine glass. "Red or white?"

"She's beautiful."

"Senior at Oberlin. Psychology major."

"No interest in politics?"

"Not one bit," C.J. laughed.

Donna replaced the photo and took a sip of her wine. "It's been a strange night – strange week – strange decade, even. I look at that photo of your niece and think that if my car hadn't started that morning eight years ago when I decided to join the campaign, I'd still be in Wisconsin with two kids, a mortgage, a dog…"

"A husband," C.J. interrupted.

"Or a divorce," Donna deadpanned.

"Fair enough," C.J. replied.

"But it's exhausting, C.J. The uncertainty." Donna had revealed the basic contours of her week with Josh to C. J. in the car ride. "Josh said tonight that he knew exactly what he wanted."

"You don't believe him."

"I believe him well enough in the moment," Donna said, remembering the kiss. "I just don't think he'll ever…" Donna's thought trailed as she her head and sunk deeper into C.J.'s couch.

"Ever what?"

"Who's the psychology major now?"

"I'm serious, Donna. You won't offend my feminist sensibility. This isn't a policy address. You want the kids and the dog and the mortgage."

"Plus the meaningful job. I've worked too hard to give that up."

"And the husband?" C.J. asked.

"I've loved Josh as long as I can remember," Donna said without hesitation. "Everyone knows that, as strange as it is to say out loud. Will Bailey said I wasn't cryptic. Even when I imagine myself back Wisconsin I can't quite believe there was a time before Josh. But C.J., there is no way to love Josh without also loving his job, without putting his job first."

"Just because Leo and I couldn't, doesn't mean…"

Donna cut her off. "He couldn't be deputy and have a real relationship. Why would this be any different?"

"Because you wouldn't be working for him."

"Which only means I'd see him less – be less a part of his life."

Donna felt herself at the edge of breaking down, something she didn't want to do in front of the current White House Chief of Staff, friend or not. She quickly got up from the couch and brought her empty wine glass to the kitchen and attempted to recompose herself, then re-entered the living room.

"I'm sorry, C.J. I didn't mean to wind up in this particular mental cul de sac tonight. It doesn't do anyone any good."

"You and Josh accomplished the impossible in getting Matt Santos elected president. I'd like to think you can accomplish the impossible for yourself too."

"Thank you." Donna replied.

"It's late. Let's turn in. Things may look different in the morning."

Donna was exhausted. She wished C.J. good night and got ready for bed. She set an alarm on her phone and couldn't stop herself from checking to see if Josh had called again. She laid down to sleep with no answers, but a new desire to find them.

Eight years ago, her thoughts had been just as jumbled – not knowing how to define the difference between what she wanted for herself and wanted for, and from, Josh. Everyone else seemed to be able to draw a clean line between work and love. For Donna, it was never so simple.

She turned off the lamp on the night stand and put her head down on the pillow. Things might look different in the morning.